


Body Language

by ModernWizard



Series: Silly Subtext [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Body Language, Dedicated to Roger Delgado's MAGISTERIAL eyebrows, Delphonian sign language, Double Entendre, Eyebrows, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Like leather -- the Master definitely prefers leather, M/M, Metaphors, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Doctor, Other, Serial: s059 The Daemons, Sexual Metaphors, Silly, The Doctor has always wanted a Master but he keeps slipping through their fingers dammit!, The Master suggests that the Doctor try something to give them more traction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 01:55:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11476161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ModernWizard/pseuds/ModernWizard
Summary: A silly rewrite of the scene at the end of The Daemons when the Master tries to escape from Devil’s End in Bessie, only to be brought back by the Doctor’s remote control.I consider it quite possible that this Doctor and this Master are, in fact, the ace "inevitable spouses" as they appear in my Scream of the Shalka fanfic series, Alison Wonderland. They do the sexual repartee thing as a shared joke at the humans' expense, who wouldn't really understand the concept of "inevitable spouses" anyway. It's also probably some sort of sarcasm because, if they overplay the type of interest they don't have in each other, that distracts them both from the type of interest they do have in each other.





	Body Language

The Master, Jo reflected, was either incredibly brilliant or incredibly obtuse. He always tried the same technique: forcing other alien powers to serve him. He always tried for the same goal too: domination. And he always met the same end: chased after by the Doctor and imprisoned by UNIT. Well, at least until he decided to escape and repeat the whole process. Either he was incredibly obtuse and unable to learn from his mistakes. Or his goal wasn’t really domination, but in fact this strange cat and mouse game with the Doctor. In that case, he was incredibly brilliant, because he had everyone playing along with him.

 

 

 

Jo decided that the Master was both: incredibly brilliant because otherwise the Doctor wouldn’t be interested in him, but also incredibly obtuse in his inability to directly proclaim his own interest in the Doctor. Other people just said, _Hey, I fancy you. Let’s go out, shall we?_  
  
But could the Master act like a normal person? Of course not. He had to go and summon a Daemon [which had, incidentally, just imploded because it couldn’t handle the love that Jo demonstrated in her willingness to die for the Doctor]. He was so predictable.

 

 

 

Just as Jo thought this, the Master proved her point. Even with UNIT personnel surrounding him at gun, he still tried to scarper from the wreckage of the Devil’s End church. He tossed his ridiculous coven robes over Benton’s head and ran. Benton and the Brigadier shot at him as he started up Bessie and drove away. The Master never gave up, even against impossible odds. Of course, neither did the Doctor. Why couldn’t the two just be brilliant and/or obtuse together without blowing up churches?

 

 

 

“Stop!” The Doctor waved their hands over their head at Benton and the Brig. “Don’t hurt Bessie! She’s a gentle soul!”

 

 

 

“He’s getting away!” the Brig pointed out.

 

 

 

“C’mon, Bessie!” The Doctor snapped their fingers and slapped their knees with their palms. “C’mere!” The yellow Edwardian roadster immediately turned about in a wide circle and glided to a stop within centimeters of the Doctor’s shoes. “What’d you fetch for me this time?” the Doctor asked.

 

 

 

Bessie’s klaxon blew twice with an almost impudent flair.

 

 

 

“What’s that?” Cocking their head, the Doctor cupped their ear. “A Master? Good girl!” They patted the bonnet. “I always did want to get my hands on one of those, but they keep slipping through my fingers.”

 

 

 

“Try something with more traction,” advised the Master from the driver’s seat. “I myself,” he said, displaying his gloved palms as if in illustration, rather than surrender, “prefer leather.”

 

 

 

“How on earth did you do that?” The Brig stared at Bessie.

 

 

 

“Well,” said the Master, “first I let go of the steering wheel like so, and then I bent my elbows, while simultaneously -- now pay attention here because this is a tricky bit -- opening my hands up from a grasping position. It’s a complex maneuver, but you should be able to follow it with a little practice.”

 

 

 

Jo stifled laughter until it blew out her nose in a sneeze as the Brig yelled at the Master, “The _car!”  
_

 

 

 

“Honestly.” The Doctor pulled a radio controller from their pocket and presented it to the Brig. “Have none of you ever seen a remote control apparatus before?”

 

 

 

With a dignified sniff, the Brig straightened his back. “Right, Benton! Move everyone out. And take him,” he added with a glare at the Master, “with you. Maximum security guard.”

 

 

 

“Oh yes,” said the Doctor as UNIT personnel surrounded Bessie, “and do look after him. I want to deal with him later. Erm, no, that wasn’t right.” They stroked their chin. “Ah yes -- do deal with him, won’t you? I want to look after him later.” Their eyebrows writhed rather alarmingly.

 

 

 

“Do you, Doctor?” said the Master, chuckling under his breath. “You always were an optimist, weren’t you?” His own eyebrows performed arabesques.

 

 

 

“Why thank you.” The Doctor bowed.

 

 

 

As Benton and the others escorted the Master away to a Land Rover, the Brig shook his head. “Poor Doctor. I shouldn’t wonder that they’re not feeling well, after all of this.”

 

 

 

Jo glanced at the Doctor. They were grinning like it was their birthday, cocking one eyebrow, then the other, at her. “Unwell?” She arched an eyebrow of her own at the Doctor.

 

 

 

“The nervous twitch about the brow.” The Brig gestured to his own temple. “Sometimes I’m surprised that this job doesn’t give more of us a case of nerves. Maybe they need a little holiday. I know I could certainly use one...”

 

 

 

Fortunately the Brig walked off, shaking his head, so Jo didn’t have to conceal any more giggles with painful snorts. Standing together on the Devil’s End village green, both Jo and the Doctor let loose with loud peals of silly, relieved laughter.

 

 

 

Of all the people in UNIT, only Jo was conversant in Delphonian, a sign language of the brows. The Doctor had taught her in case they needed to communicate silently for some reason. It was a marvelous language, truly expressive. _Like making your face dance!_ the Doctor proclaimed.

 

 

 

The only problem with Delphonian was its ambiguity. One expression could have two entirely separate meanings. You could only figure out what someone was saying by context. Even then, it could be tricky. Jo discovered this the hard way when she tried to say to the Doctor _I like your new trousers,_ which also apparently meant _Give me your clothes, please._ Fortunately the Doctor had only laughed, but Jo had stuck to simpler sentences from then on.

 

 

 

Other people used Delphonian much better than Jo: the Doctor and the Master, for example. They hadn’t been developing nervous tics a moment ago. Instead they had been carrying on another conversation besides the one in English. They had also been taking full advantage of Delphonian’s multiple meanings.

 

 

 

Doctor: Either _I’m overjoyed to see you_ or _You are my mortal enemy.  
_

 

 

 

Master: Either _You will obey me_ or _I will do anything you ask.  
_

 

 

 

Jo decided that, whatever the subject, brilliance/obtuseness, cat/mouse, ruling/obeying, it was probably less of an _either/or_ situation for them and more of a _both/and.  
_


End file.
